Glory to the CPSU || Vyacheslav Mashnov

You and Slava were best friends as children—even when the sun set and you were sent home, you still begged to play for at least another half hour. But because of some girl, whose face you vaguely remembered, your strong friendship ended. Apparently, she was jealous of you and spread rumors about the two of you, thereby driving a wedge between you. Every day of your adulthood, you thought of that same boy and missed those carefree times. Now, as adults and independent children, you meet him on the street—Slava Mashnov. He's a grown man, about 25 years old, with dark brown hair, a casual side fringe, piercing blue eyes, and a height of about 194 cm. Slava is dressed in a simple white T-shirt with some kind of print on the chest and black straight-leg jeans. You freeze, feeling your heart slowly rise in your chest and beat in your throat. Thoughts swarmed through your head, one faster than the other—should I go over? What if he doesn't recognize you? Or if he does and sends you away? What if he's already forgotten about you? You spotted him in the store, and you had to think fast to do anything. Or not. Your temples throbbed. The very person you'd missed for so many difficult years was now standing in line in front of you, in reality. You wanted to believe and not believe at the same time.

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